Extraordinary
by raglanwriter
Summary: Sherlock makes an observation that forces John to do some serious internal reflection- and the realization he makes changes everything.


Extraordinary

Summary: Sherlock makes an observation that forces John to do some serious internal reflection- and the realization he makes changes everything.

Disclaimer: Not mine. This version of Sherlock and John belong to the BBC and Co. Original characters property of Conan Doyle…although I'm not sure he ever imagined them quite this way!

"I can only assume that the issue is with me."

Sherlock's statement startled John out of his unfocussed review of the newspaper. He had been trying to read while also watching his friend who had been sprawled out on the sofa for more than three hours. Sherlock had been very quiet and John had learned to recognize this as a sign that he was deep in thought about something. If John watched closely he could almost see the serious consideration slowing down Sherlock's brain as his intelligence massaged an idea and searched for whatever answer he sought. John had been curious because they were not working on a case, so whatever Sherlock was pondering had nothing to do with the things that normally made his mind turn so deliberately. And now, as so often happened, he was expecting John to join the conversation somewhere in the middle when he had not been kind enough to even identify the topic.

"Sorry?" John questioned. "You're the issue in relation to what?"

"Your vehement denials." Now John really was confused. Whatever Sherlock had been thinking about clearly related back to something he had done- but what? John wracked his brain trying to find what Sherlock was referring to, but he was totally lost.

"You'll have to clarify that one Sherlock- I can't catch up this time."

Silence descended again for several minutes as John waited while Sherlock manoeuvred himself into a sitting position and turned to stare at some point on the wall behind John's head. He sighed. He shifted back and forth. He sighed again, and finally his eyes dropped down to meet John's square on and there was something in his face that was not familiar to John. The two men sat and looked at each other for a long moment before Sherlock began to speak.

"Whenever someone assumes that you and I are something more than flatmates, you react with very forceful denial. When we first met, you asked me if I had a boyfriend, which you stated was 'fine'; however, the idea that anyone thinks you might be my boyfriend obviously makes you extremely embarrassed and uncomfortable. Thus, I can only conclude that if you do indeed think same sex partnership is 'fine', it can only be the idea that someone would think you are with _me_ that is so alarming to you." Sherlock continued to regard John as he spoke, but rose from the sofa to go stand by the window as soon as he had finished.

John was stunned. No other word for it. He spent a moment thinking back over the words that Sherlock had just said and suddenly felt sick to his stomach. When he recalled several times that someone had made a comment about the two of them being a couple, he could not contradict what Sherlock was saying. He did react that way- as though he was horrified at the mere thought of people thinking they were together. But John had never considered how that must have seemed to Sherlock in the context of that very early conversation they had at Angelo's. He was brought back to the moment when Sherlock cleared his throat and spoke again.

"It's quite alright John. I understand why it would be such a disgusting thought." There was no malice in his tone, no sound of hurt feelings- just his usual matter of fact assessment of things when he figured something out. But John was alarmed nonetheless by the choice of words. 'Disgusting.' Is that really how Sherlock viewed himself? And had John made him feel that way? The nauseous feeling in John's stomach returned and was accompanied by a tidal wave of guilt.

"No! Sherlock, that isn't right!" John surprised himself with the sharpness in his voice. "I never meant it like that. Never!"

"Then how did you mean it?" Again, Sherlock has stopped John in his tracks. How had he meant it? Why did he feel the need to protest so much when someone suggested he and Sherlock were a couple? He really was not bothered with the idea of two men being together- at least he never thought he was. Was he? Or was it one of those things that was alright in the abstract but uncomfortable for him in the reality?

"I don't know." It was the only honest answer he could give. Sherlock turned back towards him and studied John carefully. John dropped his head to look at the floor. Something like shame was creeping under his skin and he knew he could not meet the intensity of Sherlock's eyes. His throat felt tight and he realized that his eyes were stinging as if they wanted to cry. The thought that he was some kind of bigot who just pretended to be a decent person- and that this false identity had hurt Sherlock- made him feel like sobbing. When he heard Sherlock move, he allowed his eyes to glance up in time to see the furl of his coat tails as Sherlock prepared to leave the flat. At the door, he stopped and addressed John in a voice that sounded thick and quiet, as though the words were difficult for him to say.

"I suggest you figure it out."

After Sherlock left, John sat in his chair for a long time. He was unable to move under the weight of his feelings. The sunlight faded and even as the flat grew dark, John sat there having an internal dialogue and trying to sort it all out.

The first thing he did was evaluate his whole framework around sexuality. Was there something about same sex partnerships that he really was judgemental about? He had always been supportive of his sister and had never felt odd about the fact that she was married to another woman. So, was it just something about men being gay that bothered him? But he really didn't think it did bothered him- the mechanics of it were a bit mysterious to him, but the actual fact of two men loving each other and being sexually involved did not disturb him particularly. After all, love is love isn't it? So who cared about what body parts people had- that was, afterall, just a physical manifestation of emotion...or ideally that was it, but often it was just a physical manifestation of loneliness and frustration, a circumstance not restricted to any particular sexuality. But a loving relationship that involved true physical intimacy was actually something quite wonderful so John figured anyone who found that was pretty damned lucky, no matter who they found it with. Alright then, so not really reacting to the general idea of homosexuality...then what was the problem?

What about the idea of homosexuality when someone applied that idea to him? Was that it? Insecure about his own masculinity maybe? Didn't seem likely to John either but he gave the question due consideration. He did view himself as very male, that was true. Enjoyed all those proper manly things like rugby, beer, and James Bond movies. He'd been a soldier- and a stereotypically stoic one at that. So, no real question about his gendered identity as far as he could tell. And as he reflected back, he did recall having comments made to him once or twice before about male friends of his and it had never bothered him. Hell, one fellow in his army training camp had even asked him out and he'd been kind of flattered since the lad was top drawer in terms of his credentials and abilities. Once, while he was in school, he'd even messed around a bit - just drunken fumbling, but still, hadn't phased him a bit to see the same guy the next day. So, his sense of self appeared to be pretty secure. What else was there then? Why such a dramatic reaction to people's assumptions?

The only thing left to consider was the very specifics of the context. Sherlock. Was it really about Sherlock in the end? But Sherlock didn't disgust him- not at all. He found Sherlock interesting, engaging, maddening of course, but also humourous and brilliant and...attractive? Wait. Did he find Sherlock attractive? John closed his eyes and let his mind form a mental picture of the other man- Sherlock was so familiar to him now that he had never really stopped and thought about how he looked. Dark curls, translucent skin, stunning eyes, tall- all the traits that John would ordinarily have found attractive in a woman. So, it made sense if the aesthetic had some appeal in a man too. But it was more than that- who was he kidding? Physical traits aside, it was the combination of such a multitude of factors that made Sherlock unique which John found himself cataloguing. That infuriating way he had of dismissing everyone as idiotic; his intense energy when an idea excited him; the melancholy that consumed him when he had nothing to entertain his mind; his complete disregard for other people's opinions of him; the way his lips would twitch into a genuine smile when something really pleased him; his complete disregard for personal space and boundaries of any sort; that way he had of coaxing John to do things which John initially had no intention of doing; his fierce sense of protectiveness towards the few individuals he deemed worthy. ..

John realized it might be an endless list. There were an awful lot of things about Sherlock that both aggravated and enraptured him- often at the same time. It was all those things that made Sherlock who he was and it was the total package that made him so special to John. Special. John rolled the word around in his head- was that the right word? Didn't feel right- seemed a bit generic and unsatisfying in reference to Sherlock. John let his head fall back against the chair and started up at the ceiling- what was the word he was searching for? Fatigue caused John's mind to roam freely, searching for adjectives and descriptions that might fit the need. What was the word he wanted? And then, the word entered his mind and he sat bolt upright in the chair. No- that couldn't be it...and yet somehow, it fit. The sound of it clicking around Sherlock's name like a padlock and feeling like the obvious conclusion.

John had to stand up. The idea in his head was now making him restless and he had to move. God- was this the frantic feeling that Sherlock had all the time? As if thinking about him again had conjured up the man himself, John heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Sherlock was home. John knew he was moving more slowly than usual- certainly not his usual frenzied leaping up the stairs and flinging the door open. There was a very distinct pause as the footsteps reached the landing and then the door opened. John did not realize that he had stopped breathing until he gasped in a breath when the shaft of light from the hallway blinded him. Squinting his eyes closed, he didn't look at Sherlock until he heard the door click shut and darkness surrounded him again.

The light seeping in from the street lamps outside just allowed John to see Sherlock remove his coat and turn to head down the hall. Was he not going to speak? Usually when he arrived home, he was full of thoughts and questions which he hurled at John with machine gun pace. Tonight, there was nothing but the rustle of his clothing as he moved and John found himself alone again. Sherlock almost never retired to his room. He generally worked on experiments in the kitchen or paced the floors all night or played his violin since sleep seemed to be something he did not need. But he had just disappeared without a word- clearly, he had decided to leave John to his own devices on this one and that alone signified the uniqueness of the task since rarely did Sherlock bother to stop himself from interfering in things.

John knew that he would never sleep with all the things cluttering his head. And he also knew that he had to explain to Sherlock. Despite the detective's ability to camouflage it, John suspected that he was deeply hurt by the idea that the one person he trusted seemed so willing to reject him- it probably reinforced all kinds of negative ideas he had and John knew he would not be able to close his own eyes until he had fixed this. So, he drew in a deep breath, straightened his spine, rolled his shoulders back and tried to have some semblance of courage as he followed Sherlock's path down the shadowy corridor.

Outside Sherlock's door he stopped and listened. There seemed to be nothing but silence on the other side and the sound of his knuckles on the wood was startling and loud when he finally managed to knock. For a long moment, there was no response. Then John heard the creak of floorboards and, at long last, a voice.

"Come in."

Tentatively John turned the handle- he could not recall ever having been in Sherlock's room before. Come to think of it, the door was always closed so he did not think he had ever had even a decent look at this private space. It seemed almost scandalous to be invited in, but John knew there was no turning back and so he slowly pushed the door open and stepped across the threshold. John should have known better than to find anything about Sherlock surprising, but he was a bit shocked to see that the room was tidy and sparsely furnished with only necessities. The only sign of the mess that Sherlock left everywhere else was some sheet music scattered across the desk and a rather tall pile of books on the floor by the window. Sherlock was standing in the middle of the room, obviously in the midst of changing his clothes since his hair was mussed from pulling a pyjama shirt over his head, but he was still wearing the black trousers that were part of his suit. He looked tired- and wary.

"Hi." A whisper left John's lips.

"Hello." Sherlock's voice was quiet too but not anywhere near as fragile as John's sounded.

"I've been doing some thinking."

"So it appears."

"And I've reached some conclusions."

"Yes?"

"First though- can you let me apologize?" John's tone took on a pleading quality. Sherlock made no reply and so he gauged that as permission. "I never meant for you to think that my reaction to what people say was some kind of commentary on you. To use your word, you are not 'disgusting' to me- not at all. Please tell me that you understand what a complete idiot I am and that you can forgive me for it. I can't bear the thought that I've hurt you."

"You haven't hurt me John. I'm not capable of it." Sherlock tried to sound sure of himself, but John knew him well enough to hear the fear at the edge of his voice.

"You and I both know that isn't true Sherlock. No matter what you say, I know you and you are as human as I am and if someone treated me the way I have treated you then I would be hurt- so please just accept my apology and try to forgive me." John paused and looked at Sherlock, who seemed to consider his options and then nodded his head almost imperceptibly- not forgiveness perhaps but certainly an indication that he did not mind if John continued. "Right. So, I spent the whole day thinking about our conversation and I tried to really consider what you asked me. I thought about it sort of step-by-step to try and figure things out because I know it's important- not just because of you, but because I needed to answer the question for myself too. I thought about the generalities and the specifics, eliminated some possibilities and then decided on a conclusion."

Sherlock had remained motionless during John's speech, but his eyes brightened with interest when he sensed that John might be ready to reveal the solution he had so carefully reached. John also thought he saw a bit of pride in Sherlock's face at the fact that John had applied the detective's deductive methods to this.

"What I figured out sort of surprised me so you'll have to give me time to adjust to it after this conversation OK? I know that you assimilate new information incredibly fast, but I'm not as brilliant as you are." John stopped to gather himself again and do an internal check that he was sure about the next bit he was going to say- because there would be no rewinding this conversation. After a moment he drew in a deep breath and met Sherlock's eyes as he began to speak. "The thing is, when people say those gossipy things about us being a couple, my instinct is to deny it because somewhere inside me I'm afraid that it might be too close to truth. I thought it all through Sherlock, and when I tried to find the words that fit best in terms of you and me, the word that took hold was love. So after all my thinking, it was really more about feeling anyhow, and what I concluded is that I am quite likely in love with you- and I have no idea what to do with that knowledge."

The room was quiet again and John could distinctly hear his own breathing- he was pacing it and trying to even it out. For his part, Sherlock continued his vigil of silence and stillness. They both just stood there and the air felt dense and difficult to inhale. John felt the tension surround him and begin to seep into his muscles. He didn't know what to do. Was Sherlock waiting for him to say something more? He wasn't sure he had more to say. He was so bewildered by this whole thing that he was at a loss- it was like his brain could not try to wrap itself around this idea of being in love with Sherlock and deal with anything else at the same time. He'd never been much of a multitasker. Just as John decided he should leave the room he saw the smallest shift in Sherlock's stance.

"It is a very bad idea to love me." Not what John had expected to hear.

"What?"

"Bad idea. Horrendous, actually."

"Why?"

"You know why. You know me. Normal things like love don't work with me." Never had John heard such heavy sadness in someone's voice. It pressed against his chest and made his heart clench. "You shouldn't love me John. Absolutely not."

"Too late." The words were out of John's mouth before he even knew he was thinking them. Sherlock's head dropped and John had a minute to look at him before he continued. Standing there, half in his pyjamas and twisting his long fingers through the hem of his shirt, Sherlock was indeed human and John was so aware of how many times Sherlock must have been mocked and harshly treated. He was not an easy man to like and an even more difficult one to understand, but when you actually tried, he really was someone worth loving- the world had just convinced him otherwise. "Sherlock- here's what I think. I think that normal love probably doesn't work for you. But I really believe that extraordinary love will. I mean that only makes sense given how very extraordinary you are right?"

John watched as Sherlock let the words sink in and when he replied, John knew it was likely the most serious question anyone would ever ask him.

"Is that what you are offering John? Extraordinary love?"

"That is what I am willing to try and offer. I mean, I don't know how to do this either Sherlock. God knows- it's a new situation for me too. But maybe between the two of us, we can figure it out?"

John realized that he was terrified. He had laid out his heart in a way he never had before in his life- and to someone who was even more unsure of what to do with these revelations. He also realized that nowhere in this conversation had Sherlock made any mention of what feelings he possessed, if any, for John. Maybe he loved him in return and they could try to be together; maybe he loved him but won't be able to try; maybe he thought the whole idea was madness and he had no feelings for John at all. All the possible outcomes felt to John like he might be about to fall off a cliff regardless so he continued to wait for an answer.

"We have solved some very intricate puzzles together over the past couple years haven't we John?"

"Yes, we have."

"So then, perhaps, as you say we can manage to sort this all out too."

Sherlock's mouth twitched with an unsure smile and he stepped towards John. It took John a second to realize that he should make a move too- show that he was willing to make the same effort that Sherlock was. He shuffled a bit closer but found himself unable to close the gap between them. It was nagging him, the fact that he does not know how Sherlock actually feels. He has indicated a willingness to try something- but what? Is he in love with John at all? John did not think he could be the only one to take that massive emotional risk, but he also cannot bring himself to ask. As usual, Sherlock understood the hesitation for what it was and spoke again.

"John- in answer to your unspoken inquiry, I don't know. I am not sure I know how love feels. Based on my theoretical understanding of the emotion, I certainly suspect that I do love you, but you will have to have patience with me too. And I cannot promise not to hurt you because I have absolutely no idea how this will end."

It was certainly not reassurance in a traditional sense, but hearing Sherlock admit his ignorance and uncertainty demonstrated to John that he was opening himself up in a way he never had before. And for now, John knew that it had to be enough if he wanted this to move forward- and as he was standing there he realized that he did want it to move forward, whatever unique and surprising thing was happening between him and Sherlock. As scared as he was of what might happen, he is even more scared that nothing will happen- he needs this, needs Sherlock.

"I can live with that," he said in response to the proposition Sherlock has made.

And then, Sherlock smiled- a true and honest smile that made John's heart beat a bit faster and pushed the tension out of his body. This time when John stepped forward he moved with a steady step and was face to face with Sherlock in the blink of an eye. Sherlock has continued to smile, but his face softened and he looked down at John with an expression the other man cannot quite read. Then he felt Sherlock's fingers brush against his cheek- a feather of a touch and his eyes closed. He knew that Sherlock will not kiss him. That is too much for either of them right now and if anything is going to work, it will have to be a slow process of taking one moment at a time and adjusting to new realities as they fall into place. John leaned forward so his forehead rested against Sherlock's shoulder and he allowed his arms to drift away from his own sides so they loosely encircled Sherlock's waist. Sherlock let his hands rest on John's chest and John felt the warmth of his palms through the material of his shirt. For tonight, this is enough- permission to touch and to express something through that touch that the words they have exchanged do not truly convey. They stood like that for a long minute and then Sherlock dropped his head so that his mouth whispered directly into John's ear.

"Yes, I feel quite certain that this is what extraordinary love feels like."


End file.
